Too well I know thy breach of friendship there, Thy fruitless base endeavours to supplant me.

Edw. I scorn, it, sir—Elizabeth hath charms, And I have equal right with you to admire them: Nor see I aught so godlike in the form, So all-commanding in the name of Warwick, That he alone should revel in the charms Of beauty, and monopolize perfection. I knew not of your love.

Warw. By Heaven, 'tis false!

You knew it all, and meanly took occasion,
Whilst I was busied in the noble office,
Your grace thought fit to honour me withal,
To tamper with a weak unguarded woman,
To bribe her passions high, and basely steal
A treasure, which your kingdom could not pur-
chase.

Edw. How know you that? but be it as it may,
I had a right, nor will I tamely yield
My claim to happiness, the privilege
To choose the partner of my throne and bed:
It is a branch of my prerogative.

Warw. Prerogative!-what's that? the boast of tyrants:

A borrowed jewel, glittering in the crown
With specious lustre, lent but to betray.
You had it, sir, and hold it—from the people.
Edw. And therefore do I prize it; I would
guard

Their liberties, and they shall strengthen mine:
But when proud faction and her rebel crew
Insult their sovereign, trample on his laws,
And bid defiance to his power, the people,
In justice to themselves, will then defend
His cause, and vindicate the rights they gave.
Warw. Go to your darling people, then; for

This traitor, and convey him to the Tower! There let him learn obedience.

[Guards enter, seize WARWICK, and endeavour to disarm him.

Warw. Slaves, stand off!

If I must yield my sword, I'll give it him,
Whom it so long has served; there's not a part
In this old faithful steel, that is not stained
With English blood in grateful Edward's cause.
Give me my chains, they are the bands of friend-
ship,

Of a king's friendship; for his sake awhile
I'll wear them,

Edw. Hence! away with him

Warw. 'Tis well:

Exert your power, it may not last you long;
For know, though Edward may forget his friend,
That England will not.-Now, sir, I attend you.
[Exit.

Edw. Presumptuous rebel-ha! who's here?
Enter a Messenger.

Is to secure thy liberty; that done,
We haste to seize the palace, and redeem
The fair Elizabeth.

Warw. Redeem her, ha!
Is she a captive too?

Pemb. A willing slave;

A gay state prisoner, left to roam at large
O'er the young monarch's palace.
- Warw. Aye, my Pembroke,

That's more inviting than a prison. Oh,
She's false, she's false !-Who sent her there?
Pemb. She came,

It seems, to thank him for his royal bounties
To her good father, the new earl of Rivers,
Who will, no doubt, persuade her to accept-
Warw. Of Edward's hand-distraction! fly,
my friend;

Haste thee to Margaret: tell her, if she hopes
For Warwick's aid, she must release him now,
Ere Edward's ill-timed mercy shall prevent her.
Pemb. I go: my friend, adieu! when next we
meet,

I hope to bring thee liberty.
Warw. Farewell.

[Exit.

Eliz. My Warwick!

Warw. 'Tis a grace I looked not for,
That a fair favourite, who so late had tasted
The pleasures of a court, should condescend
To visit thus a poor abandoned captive.

Eliz. I come to take my portion of misfortune,
To pour the balm of comfort in, and heal,
If possible, the wounds, which I had made.
Too well I know, I was the fatal cause
Of all thy sorrows-but the noble Edward,
For so, indeed, he is—

Warw. And art thou come,

To plead the cause of him, who sent me hither?
Eliz. I came to be the messenger of peace,
To calm thy troubled soul, and give thee rest,
To teach my Warwick to forget his wrongs.
Warw. Forget my wrongs! was that thy er-
rand here,

To teach me low submission to a tyrant ?
To ask forgiveness, kneel, and deprecate
The wrath of blustering Edward? If thou com'st,
On terms like these, to bring me freedom, know
It will not be accepted: Now I see
Through all your arts; by Heaven! I'd rather
lose

A thousand lives, than owe one to his bounty.

Eliz. Either my Warwick is much changed, and so,

it.

I fear, he is, or he would never talk
Thus coldly to me, never would despise
A life so precious, if he knew how much
Elizabeth had suffered to preserve
The gallant Edward, won by my entreaties–
Warw. Entreaties! didst thou, then, descend
so low,

As to entreat him for me?

Eliz. Hadst thou seen,

When I implored him to forgive my Warwick, How kind he looked, how his repenting heart Heaved with the pangs of agonizing friendship, Thou wouldst have pitied him.

Warw. Deceitful woman!

I see thy falsehood now; I am betrayed;
And thou art leagued with Edward to destroy me.
Go to your royal lover, and unite

Those only fit companions for each other,
A broken friendship, and a perjured love!
Give up discarded Warwick, and, to make
The compact firm, cement it with my blood.

Eliz. I thought the soul of Warwick far above Such mean suspicions. Shall the man, whose truth,

Whose constancy, and love, have been so long
My bright example, shall he stoop so low,
As thus to listen to an idle tale,

Told by some prating courtier? if indeed
Thou couldst believe it, I should pity thee.
Warw. Where is your father, the new earl of
Rivers?

Why sends he not his forces to our aid?

Eliz. He cannot: honour, gratitude, forbid, That he should lift up his rebellious arm Against his benefactor! well thou know'st, Of late, when civil discord reigned amongst us, He fought with Henry, and with Henry fell: When injured Edward generously forgave, Restored his forfeit lands, and late advanced him To rank and title...

Warw. Infamy and shame;

The common nets, which fearful knavery spreads To catch ambition's fools: mean sordid bribes. We know the treasure they were meant to purchase.

Eliz. Unkind suggestion! how have I deserved it?

Have I for this refused a youthful monarch,
And spurned his offered sceptre at my feet,
To be reproached at last by cruel Warwick?
Had I once listened to him; had these eyes
Been dazzled with the splendour of a court,
I need not thus have changed it for a dungeon.
But, since I am suspected, witness Heaven,
And witness Warwick to my vows! hencefortli,
Dear as thou art, I cast thee from my love;
Elizabeth will never wed--a traitor.

Warw. Am I awake, and did Elizabeth
Say she would never wed her faithful-Warwick?
Then bear me witness too, all-judging Heaven!
Here yield I up all visionary dreams
Of future bliss, of liberty, or life.

Even the sweet hope of vengeance, that alone

Sustained my spirit, loses all its charms;
I wished for freedom but to purchase thine:
For life, but to enjoy it with my love,
And she disclaims me.

Eliz. Heaven forbid ! O Warwick,
Let not the tide of passion thus o'erwhelm
Thy reason.

Warw. Canst thou pardon me? thou know'st The unguarded warmth, the weakness of my na

ture.

I would not wrong thee, but I've been so oft,
So cruelly deceived!

Elis. I know thou hast ;
But never by Elizabeth.
Warw. O no!

It is impossible, that perfidy

Should wear a form like thine. [Looking at her.
I wonder not,

That Edward loved; no; when I look on thee,
All beauteous, all enchanting as thou art,
By Heaven! I think I could almost forgive him.
Eliz. Then, wherefore not be reconciled?
Warw. To whom?

The author of my wrongs? It cannot be:
Know, I have promised Margaret to destroy him.
Eliz. Destroy thy friend! ungenerous, cruel
Warwick!

Is't not enough, that thou hast triumphed here?
Already we have pierced his noble heart
With the keen pangs of disappointed love:
And would'st thou wound his breast with added

sorrows;

Would'st thou involve a nation in his ruin?

Warw. Elizabeth, no more: alas! too well Thou know'st, there is a powerful advocate In Warwick's breast, that pleads for perjured Edward.

Eliz. Cherish the soft emotion, O my Warwick !

Warw. That angel form can never plead in vain;

But then, my friends-where is my solemn vow To Margaret, and to Pembroke? There's the tie; My honour's dearer to me

Eliz. Than thy love;

Dearer, much dearer, than Elizabeth!

But I have done: farewell, my lord; I see Thy deep resentment is not to be moved By my weak influence o'er thee.

Warw. Stay, I charge thee.

[Going.

Eliz. What is this phantom, Honour, this proud idol,

That tramples thus on every humble virtue?
This cruel, bloody Moloch, that delights
In human sacrifice! O! would to Heaven
I were its only victim! but, with me,
You offer up your country and your king.
Warw. Think on my vow, think on my promise
given.

Eliz. Thy league with Margaret must be fatal: grant

We should succeed, and Lancaster once more Assume the throne; how dear the victory, That's purchased with our fellow-subjects' blood! Alas! such triumphs make the conqueror weep.

Have orders to convey you to the palace.
Wurw. And wilt thou leave me?

Elis. This, my Warwick, this

Is the decisive moment; now determine,
Accept of mercy, ere it be too late;
Ere hasty Edward-Shall I say thou wilt
Return to thy obedience, and receive
Thy pardon? Shall I? Speak, my love.
Warw. Perhaps

I may accept it, if 'tis brought by thee.
Eliz. Then we shall meet in happiness-
Warw. Farewell!
(Exit ELIZ
Warw. Now to those worst companions in af-

fliction,

Soon as the rumour of thy foul disgrace
Had reached the public ear, the impatient people,
Uncertain of thy fate, tumultuous thronged
Around the palace, and demanded thee;
'Give us our Warwick! give us back,' they cried,
'Our hero, our deliverer!'-I stepped forth,
And bade them, instant, if they wished to save
The best of men from infamy and death,
To follow me: transported they obeyed:
I led them hither: forced the prison gates,
And brought thee this-direct it as thou wilt.
[Gives the sword.

Warw. Welcome, once more, thou dearest gift of Heaven,

Immortal liberty! my friend, I thank thee.
O Pembroke, would thou hadst been here! my
love,

My dear Elizabeth is true.
Pemb. At least
You think so.

Warw. She has told me such sweet truths! Edward repents him sorely, he is grieved At his ingratitude.

Pemb. And well he may;

I fear thou art betrayed: alas, my Warwick,
Thy open, generous, unsuspecting virtue,
Thinks every heart as honest as thy own.
Thou know'st not Edward-nor Elizabeth.
The kingdom is in arms, and every hour,
It is expected France will join the queen:
England will want its great protector's aid.
Edward and Rivers have conspired to cheat
Thy credulous ear, and who so fit to spread
The flimsy web as thy Elizabeth,

Their fair ambassadress? I see thou'rt caught. Warw. By Heaven, it may be so! I am the sport

Of fortune and of fraud.

Pemb. Away, my friend:

SCENE I.

Enter ELIZABETH.

A thousand terrors haunt me; a fond father,
A guiltless sovereign, a distracted lover,
Fame, fortune, friends, and country, all depend
On one eventful moment-hark! the sound
Of distant groans; perhaps the king-perhaps
My Warwick bleeds. O agonizing thought!
Great God of armies, whose all-guiding hand
Directs the fate of nations, O! look down
On thy own image! let not cruel discord
Divide their kindred souls! in pity hear,
Pour thy benignant spirit o'er their hearts,
And once more knit them in the bonds of peace!

Enter SUFFOLK.

Suff. The prayer of innocence is always heard. Eliz. Ha! Suffolk, whither hast'st thou art thou come

Suff. I come to heal thy sorrows, lovely fair

one,

To tell thee, Edward, and thy much-loved Warwick,

Once more are friends.

Eliz. Indeed! O welcome news! My joy's too great for utterance: tell me, Suffolk, How was it? Speak, is Warwick safe? O Heaven!

Suff. A moment's patience, and I'll tell thee all. Margaret, thou know'st, had raised a powerful force,

That doubled Edward's troops; elate with pride,
And almost sure of victory, she urged
The tardy spearmen; on they rushed, as if
Secure of conquest: the unhappy king

O'er either host. He raised his voice on high, And Stop,' he cried,' your sacrilegious hands, 'Nor touch my friend: who pierces Edward's breast,

'Must pass through mine: I raised him to the throne,

And will support him there: to you I gave, From you, my fellow soldiers, I expect him: 'Howe'er the cruel wrongs have wounded me, 'He never injured you, and I forgive him.' He spake, and instant through the gazing crowd A murmur ran; down dropped their nerveless

arms,

As if enchanted by some magic power, And with one voice they cried, long live king Edward!

Eliz. How powerful is the tongue of eloquence, When in the cause of virtue !-well, what followed?

Suff. Encouraged by the shouting soldiers, Ed ward

On like a modest virgin wishing came,
Yet fearful. Warwick, with a bridegroom's speed,
To meet him flew; into each other's arms
They ran with speechless joy; the tender scene
Affected every heart, and the rough soldier,
Unused to melting sympathy, forgot
His ruthless nature, and dissolved in tears.

Eliz. Sweet reconcilement! then, Elizabeth, Thou didst not plead in vain; but, say, how brooked

The haughty queen this unexpected change? Suff. Abashed, confounded, for a while she

strove

To stem the torrent, but in vain; then fled Precipitate.